“Vhen ve need helpers,” Mr. Christianson explained, “ve pray for dem. God send os Mr. Björk.”
He spoke with a curious matter-of-factness.
“Oh,” said Cheviot, “and—a—how did Mr. Björk know where to find you?”
“He see Kwimkuk in a visshun. He see de Mission House and he see me, too. Eh, Björk.”
The helper nodded with preternatural gravity.
“Where were you,” said Cheviot, “when you had the vision?”
“On board a whaler. Dat’s where Björk was,” proudly Christianson answered for him. “On de whaler up in Grantley Harbor, vhile I am down dere at Kwimkuk praying for help.”
“But how could he leave his ship?”
“Leedle boat,” said Christianson, laconic for once.